The Doctor Rests
by kitizl
Summary: The Doctor doesn't want to save the Universe anymore. His actions thus result in him losing track of reality and his own thoughts / ?th Doctor / Psychological, Tragedy, Hurt
1. Prologue

**A/N : It's been a while, Doctor Who!**

 **This has been a fairly confusing story to write. It's a small-ish story, that shouldn't exceed 4 chapters, so it should be pretty airtight and not boring.**

 **So the Doctor in this story is kind of strange to understand and isn't intelligent enough to anticipate this. This is waaaay into the Doctor's future and to put things simply, we have no idea what his _number_ is. He regenerates after trauma but the mental trauma slips through his regeneration and this story is mainly about the events that take place during and after the regeneration.**

 **Since the Whovian mind is buzzing with the regeneration news, this is what I could come up with. Cheers.**

 **As always, a review would be awesome.**

* * *

 **Prologue :**

He held her dying body, completely still. He was the Doctor, there was nothing he couldn't do. Except for this time. He simply couldn't move.

With all his mental might, he managed to look up. He saw the dead Dalek, sparks still flying from its metal body. The room was white. He leaned back on the TARDIS, with a bewildered face that was practically incapable of crying at this point.

His loyal, faithful companion. Never questioning, never judging. Died in the arms of his greatest enemy. It took the Daleks long enough to really understand the fact that the Doctor is impossible to defeat, but not his fragile (usually) human companion. If they fail, they run the danger of bringing on the wrath of the Doctor onto them. If they succeed, well, he's still going to be angry, but he should be easy to defeat.

Or so they thought.

On the very edge of the Milky Way, the Daleks sent out a distress signal, disguised as a human distress signal. An ambush. The oldest trick in the book. The Doctor, always helpful, rushes there. And began a small war.

For seventeen days, they fought. The Doctor and his companion, together. They were separated from the TARDIS, but what they could not separate was their unity, the Doctor's intelligence and his companion's wit. They almost made it too. Except for a stray Dalek which managed to find the TARDIS.

The Dalek was not dead.

The Doctor took too long to realize that the Dalek console wasn't sparking out of destruction, but out of repair. They had learnt to program their suits in case they were attacked by a sonic probe. An intelligent Dalek. God save the Universe.

The Doctor stuffed his hand inside the coat, searching for his sonic screwdriver. It wasn't there. He forgot how long he was holding his dead companion's body that he forgot where the sonic was. Of course it was next to the rebuilding Dalek.

The Dalek was weak. A second-hand Dalek is always weak. But definitely strong enough to fire one last jolt of charge into both of the Doctor's hearts. The last jolt of charge killed the Doctor, but it also killed the Dalek. A suicidal Dalek. God save the Universe.

Both hearts not beating, the Doctor managed to pull himself into the TARDIS. His companion. He couldn't leave her behind. He couldn't breathe anymore... but...

The yellow strands of light begin emanating from his sleeves. It's beginning. No time, no time.

The last act of this life would be at least keeping her body with him. She shouldn't be left alone on a Dalek outpost on the edge of the Milky Way. The Doctor's always had a weird way of respecting the dead, but somehow he felt like she deserved the most human way of respecting the dead.

After all, she was the most human human after all.

He managed to bring her into the TARDIS, practically struggling to breathe. He fell onto the floor of the main console. He didn't have the strength to do anything anymore. He kicked her with his leg so that she would fall into the lower portion of the console room. He rolled towards the central console, and managed to shed one tear.

He was ready to go.

He pulled the lever with the remainder of his might, and the TARDIS dematerialized from the Dalek outpost as he allowed the magic of the Time Lords to work through him.

* * *

 **Kind of short, yes, but that's because this is _just_ the prologue.**


	2. 1A : The Last Straw

**Chapter 1A : The Last Straw**

 _Somewhere in the middle of the rural United States of America, 1863_

Quentin and Julia sat quietly in their house. It was surrounded by acres of wheat, and if one were to invent a flying contraption of some sort to fly over them, they couldn't possibly see the house shrouded in the forests of wheat.

The silence in the house was minimized by Julia who was knitting. It's what she always does when's stressed. The rhythmic clicking of the needles were better at calming her down than any piece of music has.

Quentin sat exasperated in the middle of the house on his chair. He was looking straight through the window, to see the sea of wheat outside his house. He sighed, and stood up and walked close to the window, and saw the reflection of his old, aging face. "I can't do it anymore Julia. I can't." he sighed.

"There isn't much you could do anyway honey." she replied, knowing what he would reply to that.

"It isn't like there isn't _nothing_ we could do. We only need ourselves. I could always sell all of this land. We could move to New York."

"Oh don't kid yourself, Quentin. We wouldn't last a day in that blasted city. And what would we do there even if we managed to move to New York and managed to stay there alive for one day?"

"I don't know, they say New York is the land of opportunities!"

"Yes, for the youth, not for a 60 year old farmer! And what about me? What would I do there?"

"Why is this always about y-" he was cut short by a dull deafening noise coming from the skies.

Quentin ran outside soon followed by Julia, and they looked up at the sky. Absolutely nothing.

A flash. Then a blue box. Another flash. The box disappeared.

"What in the hell?" Julia yelled.

A large lightning struck out of nowhere and sent a meteor towards the wheat fields. Nothing could be made out. There was something white hot, leading the fire that followed it. It impacted the ground and sent out a blinding flash of light and a deafening boom. It threw both Quentin and Julia off their balance. Quentin actually fell.

"Are the crops burning?" Quentin yelled. Julia shook her head. She helped him up. Quentin ran to the shed and pulled out his shotgun. "Stay behind me," he said, and walked towards the crater in the farm.

"Why do you have a gun?" she asked him. "You think what just fell is an alien or something?"

"Jus-Just shut up, okay?"

They both placed their rugged feet into the large depression. The wheat was completely destroyed inside the crater. Right in the middle of the cake was something blue. Quentin loaded the gun and cocked it.

"Hello?" he yelled. "Anybody home?"

He walked closer until he could see that it was a blue box. Perfectly intact. A Police Box, no less. What the hell does that even mean?

The door opens, and a large plume of smoke emerges from the inside. Through the smoke, a man walked out, barely breathing, and looked up at them. He then immediately collapsed.

Quentin put his gun down and looked at him closely. The man was just wearing a suit, and it was tattered. The box was fuming, but there was no way this man wasn't suicidal. More importantly, he flew in from the sky.

Julia whispered in her husband's ear, "We should probably get him back inside the house."

Quentin shook his head. "He could be alien."

"He can't be. Look at him. He looks human."

"He flew in from the sky in a tiny blue box that says Police Box."

"He needs help. I don't even know if he's alive."

Quentin muttered under his breath. "Oh fuck it." and he put the sling of the gun around his shoulder and he lifted the man and placed him on his shoulder. Julia offered to help, but Quentin just shook his head.

"Where do you suppose we'll keep him then? The stables?"

"Why the stables?"

"You want to bring this man into our house?"

"He's still a human Quentin."

"Tell that to the ni**ers who killed good men."

"Oh, shut up. And they don't like to be called that. You know that."

"You keep that soft heart, you're going to get yourself killed one day."

They got back to their house. Julia removed the gun from Quentin's shoulder and rushed to the shed to keep it along with his other guns. Quentin went into the guest bedroom and placed this man in there. His clothes were singed, and they smelled like charcoal. He changed this strange man into pyjamas. He heard the door shut. "Is that you Julia?" "Yes it is," came a faint reply. Quentin shut the door close, and came downstairs.

"Is he still asleep?"

"Well, he has a pulse, and I guess that's a start."

Julia looked outside the window and saw the long streak that was left behind by the blue box. "You think he would notice?" Julia whispered. "Let's hope God doesn't let us down this time." Quentin replied sternly.

* * *

The Doctor jolted awake. He was not in his usual clothes. He was tucked neatly into bed. It was night outside. He pulled himself out of bed and looked out the window. The atmosphere and the interior design of the room he was placed in were distinctly Earth. Earth... when?

He opened the window and bent out of it. He looked at the fields of wheat that he was surrounded by. He look below directly and saw no tractors or heavy machinery or any kind of oil-based evidence that could prove that there was heavy machinery involved.

Finally he took a big gulp of the air. It would be his first good gulp of any kind of atmosphere in his new body.

New body. Absolutely brand new. Most of his internal organs had regenerated. His hands remained mostly the same, and so did his legs.

He laughed to himself. That's the actual damage a dying Dalek could do now. One that could potentially replace the insides of a time lord even if they regenerate.

Worst case scenario, he could have lost his memories.

But now that he could remember everything his previous incarnation did, and saw and felt, he wasn't sure if that was the best thing for this current body's new mental state.

He heard a creak. It must have been from downstairs. Almost immediately he put himself in a defensive stance. He looked around the room - absolutely empty. "Blast it," he told himself.

He heard the knob turn and a frail, old man behind it. "You're awake?" he said. There was a total voice-body mismatch.

"I think so. Um, where am I?"

"United States of America, as we're so called. Are you one of those Yankees they've sent to check on us in the South?"

"Do I sound like a Yankee?"

"No, but it wouldn't be the first time they depended on the English for help."

"Fair point."

"But you flew in from the sky, see? That's what makes you so suspicious. You could be dangerous - I don't know. But I promise you, I have a shotgun placed right outside this room, and I know how to use." He paused, waiting from the Doctor's response. There was nearly none. "I could always tell my wife that you escaped while we were both asleep."

"Oh," the Doctor slowly realizes. Well of course, Daleks are easy-peasy, but humans? More cunning than a Dalek could ever get. "Look, there's no need to get to that point. Just give me my ship and I'll be on my way."

"Who're you trying to kid, kid? Ships that freaking huge."

"Yeah, but this is a special kind of ship- sorry, did you just call me a kid?"

"You look like one."

The Doctor immediately turned around and slammed the window close (which made Quentin flinch) and was able to see a partial reflection of his new body.

Oh.

He _does_ look like a kid. A nineteen year old kid, no less. "Good, God, really?"

"What's your name mister?"

He turns around. "I'm the Doctor."

"I'm done with you dipshits," he said as he lunged forward to attack. The Doctor moved swiftly and dodged. At the same time, he turned around him and held his attacker in a locking position around his shoulder and neck. "Why- no, How did you think you were going to win this one without a gun?"

The old man grumbled under his breath and growled loudly.

"Now, I assume your wife is downstairs, asleep right now. You don't want to wake her up now, do you?"

He was silenced.

"Now, I'm going to let you go slowly, and steadily. But I don't want you to try and attack me again, is that clear? Okay, 1... 2... 3..."

And he escaped his grip.

"I'm not messing around with you when I say I am the Doctor. My name is the Doctor."

"That's not a real name."

"Oh, yeah? What's your name?"

"Quentin."

"That's not a real name either."

"You piece of-"

"Now, I don't want to hold you hostage or make you feel bad in your own household. If anything, I should be grateful to you. I just have a couple of questions and then I just need to find my ship and then I'll be on my way."

"What's this ship you're talking about? The blue box?"

"The blue box, yes! Brilliant. Just the questions now."

"Okay. What do you want to ask?"

The Doctor was slightly suspicious at how quickly he settled down. He studied the old man's face until he sat on the bed. Hmm.

"How long have I been here? No wait - if I were to be more accurate, then how long has it been since the ship crashed here?"

"I don't remember exactly, but it should have been about a month...?"

"A what?"

"A month."

"30 days?"

"Probably a little more."

"Holy moley, this is devastating," the Doctor said, massaging his temples. "Didn't you think it was a little bit weird that I was asleep for an entire month?"

"You flew in from the sky on a blue box. This was the least of my concerns."

"Right."

"It was that and the golden wisps that flew out of your room from time to time."

"Ah, residual regeneration energy. It's a side effect of- never mind. Where's the blue box?"

"It was out there for a couple of days. She thought it would be a bad idea to keep it amongst the wheat crops. Said it might perturb its growth somewhat."

"And?"

"It took two horses and a freeman to pull it into the shed."

"A freeman?"

"A ni**a. That's what I'd like to call them, but then you Yankees demand we don't call them that."

"Oh," the Doctor sighed and put his head low. This might not be the best place he should be staying in right now. "I'm sorry, what year is this?"

"1863. Are you a time traveler or something?"

"Kind of. Okay, thank you so much for answering my questions. I shall be in your shed and hopefully, our paths shall never cross again," the Doctor smiled, whilst vigorously shaking Quentin's hand. Quentin almost got uncomfortable. "Although, I promise, I shall be as quiet as a cat."

Saying so, the Doctor let go of the frail hand and walked towards the door and boom - he lost control of his body and slammed onto the floor. Quentin stood there aghast, not knowing what to do. He tried lifting the body of this weird thing that is shaped like a human but soon enough, he heard his wife run to the room. She burst open and cried, "What happened?" and saw her husband clutch the shoulders of this man. "What are you doing?" she added.

"Helping him up, what do you think?"

"No, I meant, what are you doing up?"

"I thought he might be awake."

"You thought he might be magically awake after one month?"

"Not really, but I do check on him every once in a while."

"Oh, wow. You've been meeting him in secret already?"

"This isn't what it looks like, okay? I was just coming up here as usual, seeing if he was going to release his golden wisps or something. But he was awake. He was very much awake. We were talking just now. He was aout to leave."

"Leave? How?"

"With his blue box. He called it his ship and said that's how he travels and stuff."

"He said that?"

"Well he called it his ship."

"And you were going to let him go?"

"Well what do you want me to do?"

"Call the sheriff or something. He just openly said that he was an alien."

"No, he didn't."

The old couple squabbled over the time lord who was desperately trying to regain consciousness. Once he did, he only heard his hosts argue over whether they should hand him over to the local sheriff for being an illegal alien or for just being an alien. He managed to stand up, and - it was as he suspected. More residual regeneration energy. Yellow streaks of light emanated from his sleeves and went out the window. The Doctor frowned. "That's strange. It's been a month and I'm still regenerating. Do you guys have some kind of poison over here?"

The wife looked at him with wide eyes, in absolute shock. "What the hell."

The Doctor ignored her remark and continued, "Because I think this place might actually be radioactive of sorts. Where are you guys even living?"

"The United States of America." Quentin declared bravely.

"Yeah, I got that, but where exactly?"

"I dunno. We've been living here as long as I can remember."

The Doctor sighed and pushed through the door and walked downstairs. The couple looked at each other for a moment and chased behind him. It was obvious that the Doctor was going to the shed.

"How do you even know where our shed is?" Quentin asked.

"It's 1863, and this house seems too archetypical. I've seen several houses like these, and so the shed should be riiiight over there-" and the Doctor was right.

The TARDIS was hidden, but it recognized the Doctor and the light from the windows shone brilliantly through the hay under which it was hidden. He removed the hay with a nearby pitchfork as Julia and Quentin watched aghast. "I say, who are you?" Julia asked.

"I'm the Doctor," he replied, not looking back. He was able to see the door now. He threw away the pitchfork, and moved the rest of the hay himself. It declared it bold text - POLICE BOX. He opened the door and went inside. The shed became quiet.

After a few seconds the door peeked open again and he looked at the old couple and said, "You know, usually when I disappear inside the box, the people observing almost, always follow me inside. I've never been in a situation where this hasn't happened, so I'm just saying, this is as awkward for me as it is for you. But yes, you should follow me inside."

"With you in that tiny little box?" Julia remarked. "Just who do you think you are?"

"How about we make judgements on my nature after you step inside this, eh?" the Doctor said and promptly disappeared inside the box.

Julia held her husband's hand and looked into his eyes. "We need to dispose of him, now."

Quentin looked at her curiously and then back at the box. He was scared, very scared. But still the insatiable human curiosity burned through him and he simply couldn't refuse to believe that there was more to this box than meets the eye. He picked up the gun, and whispered to Julia, "You stay here if you're scared. I'm going to go take a look." and tip toed towards the box.

"That gun won't even fit inside that thing," she whispered back. "The box is too small!"

Quentin ignored her and opened the door. "No..."

The Doctor didn't have time for any of that. The TARDIS was severely damaged and was running diagnostics on one end and at the same time was scanning the nearby regions for any alien activity. Quentin mumbled as he walked around. The Doctor brushed past him, and pulled the monitor to his side. "Crap, the processors have burnt out. I have to replace them, but... I don't recall ever getting any new processors." he pulled the monitor to the other end, and started typing into the keypad that was written in circular Gallifreyan. "Ah, but not all of them. I just need to take about 15 of them out, and probably just toss them away and this thing should work. Well, a bit slow, but who's pressed for time, eh?"

Without wasting a single breath, he ran downstairs, and opened up the inside of the console. He nearly fell inside and threw some glowing cylindrical objects. He picked them up, put them in some black box, and then placed it close to the console, and put a sticky-note on it saying - "REMEMBER TO DISPOSE"

Then he ran back up and then fully noticed that Quentin was around. "Oh," he slowly said.

"What... are these... things...?" Quentin managed to mutter.

"Okay, look, the biggest things to clear first - I'm a time travelling alien and I travel in this ship, which looks like a box on the outside but looks like a proper sci fi space ship inside and yes, it is bigger on the inside. I'm a friend, I've helped your planet ever since it was formed, and don't ask any questions because when I'm done you'll be glad you met me."

"Why would we be glad to meet an alien?"

"Because your lives are in danger."

* * *

 **Please review!**


	3. 1B : The Last Straw

**A/N : When I planned this story, this portion of the story should have gotten over by this chapter. But it had already run into 2200+ words, and so I realized I had to make a separate chapter for the ending of this arc.**

 **So, my previous statement about this entire story being over in 4 chapters is probably going to be wrong. Just saying.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1B : The Last Straw**

It was noon. The bright sun scorched the skin of all those under it. Julia and Quentin took refuge inside the house, and didn't even dare to step outside. The Doctor transported the TARDIS from the shed to his 'room'. He was still working in the TARDIS when they came.

Julia was washing the dishes, while Quentin sat on his armchair and was in deep contemplation. His train of thought was disrupted by an angry knock at the door. The knock sent a shock through Julia's spine and she dropped the bowl that she was cleaning. Quentin wiped the sweat on his brow and stood up and walked towards the door.

Opening the door, he saw three men in front of him. One wearing a brown hat, stained with splatters of blood, wearing a cowboy outfit. Behind him were what people initially believed to be his cronies, but as it so turned out, they were his partners. One of them were wearing sunglasses and wore just a shirt and a pant with simple trainers for shoes, and the other one also wore a hat stained in blood, but additionally had a handkerchief masking his face. The one with the sunglasses lights a small cigarette in front of Quentin who was practically shivering at this point.

"Well?" the man with the cowboy outfit asked. "Aren't you going to invite us in?"

"What do you want?" Quentin said weakly.

The man frowned. "I want you to invite us in."

Quentin wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he stammered. "We've got guests."

Hearing those words sent the three men standing outside into fits of laughter. "Did you hear that?" the cowboy man said. "Good ol' Quentin and his wifey got themselves a guest."

"Plural," the man with the sunglasses said, throwing the lit cigarette onto the wooden floor, leaving a burn mark. "He said guests."

"Indeed you are right Jackson," the cowboy man said. "Guests. You've managed to find more than one person who liked the two of y'all enough to come down and visit you. Look, you can have all the guests you want. But that's not going to move away the fact that you are practically living in this part of the country under my mercy." The tone of the man drastically changed from ironically sarcastic to outright murderous. "Now, I understand that in your family, you have responsibilities to your guests. But like I said, you're in my county. And when you're in my county, you play by my rules. You understand what that means, don't you? You know what, don't answer that. Looking at your sickening body tells me that you don't. You have a responsibility to me first, and I don't care what your guests think of me. Now, I am going to ask you for the last time before seriously considering bring a firing squad in here, didn't you want to invite me and my two friends over here into your house?"

Quentin stammered, "Please, won't you come in." half heartedly. Those words immediately put a smile in his forceful new guests and they nodded in response. "How nice o' you!" the cowboy man replied and stormed right into his house, pushing Quentin away.

"Julia!" the man with the sunglasses yell. "My favorite woman in the whole country. How is your husband treating you?"

Julia manages to remove her apron and walk in front of Jackson. He proceeds to remove his glasses and reveals the burn scar that stretches from his left cheek, across his eye to his forehead. "Still can't forget the parting gift you gave me the last time I came here."

His left eye was milky white. He was absolutely blind in one eye. People thought they could leverage this against him, thinking his lack of depth of vision would nullify his gunfighting skills. Not so. In fact, he killed more people after he lost his left eye than before he lost it. He smiled creepily at both Julia and Quentin, and walked towards her and gave her a hug. Not the warm kind. The kind that would make a woman want to crush a man's family jewels.

The man with the masked face sits comfortably on the armchair that Quentin was sitting in, and stretches in it. "Now, you do know what the date is, right?" the cowboy man asked. "You do realize what it's time for, right?"

The cowboy man begins walking around the house as though he were in a Shakespearean soliloquy. "You've known me for years now, Quentin. And every year, I provide you the land on which you do your cultivation, and in return, I just ask for a little compensation. Is that too much to ask?"

"Not in the beginning it wasn't..." Quentin whispered, but the cowboy man was able to hear him.

"Well, in the beginning every single farmer I gave land to had the same amount of land Quentin. But you're my favorite. You know why? Because you're a brilliant fucking farmer. And over these seven years, I have given you so much land, if you stand on the rooftop of this house that I built you, you can't see the fields of another farmer. Am I lying?"

Quentin didn't look.

"Look me in the eye, old man, and tell me, am I lying?" he sternly said, enunciating the last three words.

"No, you are not," he mumbled back.

The Doctor took the opportune moment to pop out of his room, and declared - "New Mexico?! I would have never guessed - New Mexico! I thought this place was always some kind of a desert, but apparently not, seeing the large fields of- oh..." the Doctor paused, as he looked at the three clearly antagonistic men in the house. "Am I disturbing something?" he asked with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, you must be our beloved Quentin's guest." the cowboy man said. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Deacon Davis. I am the landlord of approximately the entirety of this county."

"Wow, that's a large piece of area. You must be rich."

"When the yield is fine, I am."

"And who are your nice looking friends?"

"This is Jackson Roscoe. He was a sharpshooter for the Confederacy." Deacon said, pointing to the man with the scalded face. "And this is, Ray. He has no last name. Which might be his strongest point, some might argue. And who are you, my dear sir?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Just the Doctor?"

"Just the Doctor."

"What are you the Doctor of?"

"I'm not the Doctor of anything, I'm just the Doct- look, I've given this explanation too many times that I can't even remember the first time I actually said it. I was just overly enthusiastic about something that I thought was something that was pretty strange. But I see that you're having a very serious discussion with the owners of this farmland and this house, so I have decided to leave you guys be. Cheerio."

"Since when did Quentin have a British friend?" Deacon asked. "And I don't recall seeing you at all enter this county."

"Must have slipped."

"You don't understand," Deacon switched to a menacing tone. "Nobody slips by in my county."

"Well, that's who I am. A nobody. On my way then."

Before the Doctor realized it, a bullet whizzed just past his nose and buried itself in the wall. The Doctor turned around slowly and saw a pistol being held up against him by the one called Ray. He didn't even notice that he had pulled a pistol out. No, he didn't pull it out before... He didn't even remember Ray holding a gun before he said, "On my way." Holy crap.

Ray was good enough to pull out a gun, aim and fire, by the time he said the word "then" and turned around.

The Doctor instinctively put his hands up, in absolute respect for the shooter, and walked downstairs. He faced the three as they grinned at him (it resembled a stink eye more than anything) and sat in front of them on the floor.

"Now, I thought you said you had guests. So where are the rest?" Jackson said.

"There isn't anyone else," Julia cried. "There's just this one."

Deacon clicked his tongue. "Tsk tsk. You haven't paid your dues in over a year, and now you have a guest that we haven't accounted for. What do we do with you, Quentin? What do we do to you and your pretty little wife?"

"She's 60 goddamn it!" Quentin cried.

"Oh, don't worry. Ray has no preferences."

The Doctor squinted. "Hold on, hold on a minute. What year was this again? 1863? And you said that you are kind of working on his land. But you can't own this much land. And even if you do, it can't be for profit. It's illegal."

The trio dropped their smiles. "What do you mean?" Deacon asked, adjusting his hat.

"I mean, the Union - yeah the guys you really hate - passed a law in the Congress about a couple of years ago that made such land owning and land leasing illegal. Of course, I can't really blame you for not knowing it, but still, negligence and ignorance of the law is not something the federal Government tolerates I think."

"Ha. Who are you going to lodge a complaint to? The county sheriff?"

"Sure, if it comes down to it."

"He's my nephew. And I put him in that position. No way in hell is he going to try and imprison me or my partners here."

"Okay, fine then. I would go one level higher. Appeal at the state level. And if that doesn't work, I would bang on the door of the Congress to have you officially removed from all sorts of power in this county. And you know what?" the Doctor said, standing up, and putting his hands down. "I am not scared of you lot anymore. You and your guns. Useless."

Jackson smirked and pulled out his own rifle. "We'll see about that."

Quentin and Julia nearly squealed in shock.

Click.

The gun did not fire.

Jackson roared into a laughter and the other two soon followed. "Made ya flinch," Jackson said, mocking the Doctor's British accent. "Oh, these are the good days," he smiled to himself.

"Well looks like we've terrified you lot enough. We'll be back soon, alright Quentin? And Ray has sincerely missed your wife since the last time they... met, so make sure she wears something nice the next time, alright?"

Quentin nodded. His eyes were wide open, unable to comprehend the events that just took place in front of him.

The door slammed close and silence took over the house. The Doctor smiled and turned around. "Now, we've got a slightly bigger issue to deal with over here, and those landlords can go screw themselves."

Julia broke out of shock and started tearing up. "Wh-How did the gun not fire?"

"He must have had no bullets. You heard him, right? It was intentional." Quentin rationalized.

The Doctor pranced about, and said, "Ehh, not really. The TARDIS went into the Human-Emergency mode once the first gunshot was fired so it detected the age we were in and found that you lot use lead bullets a lot. It then proceeded to take precautionary measures such as shrinking the barrel of the gun so that the lead ball doesn't actually get out of the gun. But I have to say, they managed this disadvantageous event to their own advantage. They're pretty good."

"What the hell are you?" Julia asked.

"I'm the Doctor. I'm a timelord. Definitely not human. And I think I've already said this, but your lives are in danger."

"Well we just saw danger come knock the door, threaten to rape my wife and walk away," Quentin said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He sat on his armchair and let out a big sigh. Too many things were happening. Too many things.

"That? Those were just random humans threatening you lot with a gun. As long as the TARDIS is located over here, nobody can even fire a single bullet."

"What is this TARDIS you keep blathering about?"

"Oh, oops, that's the name of the big blue box. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Natty name, isn't it? But anyway, I don't have time to discuss all of these things. Do you guys have a ummmm," the Doctor temporarily forgot the leading means of transportation in this time period.

"A horse carriage or something?" Quentin said.

"Yes, yes, horse carriage, yes. Oh, you guys need to see some electricity. I'll tell you what, once all of this blows over, and everything is back to normal, I'll give you guys a gift, but you should promise me that it would remain a secret, alright?"

"Why should we keep it a secret?"

"Because I'm going to give you guys a piece of technology that doesn't really exist on Earth for another 200 million years."

"Jesus."

"Yes, anyway. So do you have one?"

"Not a carriage but we do have a horse. Well, horses - two of them."

"Can I borrow one of them? I have to go check something out."

"And steal one of our horses?" Julia interjects. "How do we believe you that you would bring the horses back?"

"You have my ship, and..." he pulls out the key from his now newly adorned shirt, "You have the key to it. If I don't return in a couple of days - well I'm stuck here without my ship, so you know."

"Right," Julia said. "They're in the shed."

"Right, thanks. Anyone want to accompany me?"

Quentin and Julia looked at each other and smiled. "You might be one of the weirdest and the most fascinating people we have ever encountered in our lives. And if we were different kinds of people then we probably would have joined you. Alas, we've got responsibilities. I don't expect an adventurous man like you to understand that."

The Doctor's smile dropped. The last two sentences that came from Quentin had triggered something. An emotion? A memory?

Now was literally the worst time to be alone. But he had to save these kind humans. And he had to leave now.

They gave him a flash of water and a small box with some food. Once the sun set, the Doctor bid them farewell and proceeded to ride off into the horizon.

Quentin and Julia could only sigh. He prayed that the blue box would protect them from all conceivable threats until the crazy British person came back.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


End file.
